After the Charlotte
by 19thpersonality
Summary: A what-might-have-happened fic set straight after the Charlotte blew up in NT 1, but the rest of the film remains unchanged. Rated T for some crass and obviously terrified language. Four-part.
1. Part 1

**Part 1**

"There's an Inuit village about nine miles east of here. It's popular with bush pilots.

Ben Gates checked the co-ordinates and pointed west. Behind him, Riley Poole sighed and looked the way he pointed.

"Right. Then what are we gonna do?"

"Start making our way back home."

Riley stumbled after his companion as Ben started to move purposefully in the direction he thought was east.

"No, I meant about Ian. He's gonna steal the Declaration of Independence, Ben!"

Ben looked around, pinned Riley with a piercing glare.

"We stop him."

-

Ian Howe stopped the snow truck, gestured for the other to do the same. Heaving a frustrated sigh, he swung down and cursed himself for being so stupid. The kid had the satellite access, without it they were truly lost. And Ben and Riley had the only handhelds.

_Shouldn't have left Riley down there. He's too valuable. Too bad, too late_.

"We have to wait. Anyone got any idea where we are?"

His crew exchanged annoyed glances. _Typical Ian, he screws up and we all get the blame_.

"We're lost?" one of them questioned. He received a death glare from their mutinous leader.

"Figure it out. There's a computer back there," Ian barked, jerked a thumb to the backseat of his truck where Riley had left one of his many laptops. He turned away, looked into the distance. The entire landscape was white, the horizon a thin grey line. _Can't even backtrack thanks to that bloody blizzard_.

-

"I'm cold."

"So am I."

"I left a ton of stuff in that truck. All my jammers, my rigs. They'll be able to use it all."

Ben didn't reply_. Don't encourage him._

"Are you sure we're going the right way?"

"Yes."

Riley frowned. He didn't think so. As Ben strode on, he tried to pull out a satellite tracking device from his duffel. After a short struggle, his hand emerged victorious. He hated doing anything with the pillows commonly known as gloves, it was like playing piano with mittens. He peeled off his gloves and proceeded to boot up. He stopped walking, turned his body at a ninety degree angle. His brow furrowed in concentration. Then his head jerked up.

"Ben!" He waved the device at Ben, who was several yards away. Ben had stopped and half-turned to give his friend/colleague/fellow treasure-hunter one of his significant looks.

"What?"

Riley started towards Ben, his steps fast and heavy as he tried to get to him without wasting time.

"We _were_ going the wrong-"

Suddenly the earth tilted beneath him. His feet slipped out from underneath him as a gash appeared at his feet, the device in his hand clattering to the ice and sliding towards the opening.

"No, no, no, no-" Riley reached out for it, the sling of his bag sliding down his arm.

"Riley, no! Just let it go. Give me your hand."

Riley watched as a personally customized and tweaked $700 fell to an icy death, gritting his teeth at the far-off, crashing sound several seconds later. He turned to Ben, who was squatting within arm's reach on safe, solid ground, proffering his hand. Carefully rolling onto his stomach, he stretched out an arm.

With a crack and a groan, the earth tipped towards the mouth of the glacier as Ben grasped hold of Riley's hand. At that moment, their eyes caught and both saw the same emotion cross. Fear.

Riley's shoulder bag grew heavy as gravity started to take hold of it. It slid even further down his other arm, dragging it down. Ben saw the war going on in Riley's mind as it flitted into his eyes.

"Riley. Other hand. Now."

Riley kept the bag hooked onto his forearm and he carefully reached up to Ben. Gravity gave a final, mean tug and the fragile support the earth provided Riley gave away. Riley's basic self-preserving instinct faltered and he caught the bag by the strap, nearly missing. In the process, he caught sight of his death waiting beneath him in the form of sharp, blood-thirsty stalagmites.

"Oh. Shit. SHIT. BEN."

"Calm down. Look at me."

Riley tore his gaze away from the white knives and stared right into Ben's eyes.

"I'm gonna die. This isn't how I pictured my death. I was hoping for an audience at least. Doing something heroic."

"Shush. Let go of the bag."

"No!" Riley's voice was a queer mixture of defiance and incredulity. His life was in that bag. _If I lost it…_

"Let. It. Go."

"No."

"Riley, if you don't let go, I can't pull you up, and I can't hold on much longer."

Ben paused, carefully let one hand leave Riley's as his other hand gripped even tighter. He ripped the glove off with his teeth, gingerly repeated the process with the other hand, adjusting his grip until Riley winced, and tried to pull him over the edge. He groaned, huffed, heaved, puffed, then shook his head.

"Riley, you know how heavy that thing is. Let go, I promise I'll reimburse you."

"I haven't made back-ups of my new programs yet."

"You can do it again. Riley. You're at least thirty pounds heavier with it. Let. Go."

"I don't-"

"RILEY."

Riley squeezed his eyes shut. He did have back-ups, but he loved his equipment. You couldn't replace a motherboard that's lasted you through high school _and_ college. He cherished that thing like a mother loves a baby. There was a reason he carried it around with him constantly.

"Riley," Ben breathed. His grip was slipping. And this time he wouldn't be able to shift it as easily.

With something between a sob and a cry, Riley let go. He wished he could block out the clatter and the smash that followed. It was like a dagger to his heart. He surrendered his hand. With the extra weight gone, Ben lifted Riley over the edge without much effort.

As they sat next to each other, heaving, each with his own thoughts, it started to snow. Ben thought about how close his friend had just been to death. Riley relived good times with his faithful motherboard.

"You do realize our hope of escape just crashed down a two-hundred foot glacier," Riley finally said, turning to face Ben. The wind picked up.

"There's not supposed to be a two-hundred foot glacier anywhere around here," Ben commented, looked down at his own sat-nav. "What did your navigator say?"

Riley quickly rewound his mind to the instant before he nearly went crashing to his doom. Strangely, he couldn't remember even looking at the hand-held screen. Scary. Very scary.

Ben saw the confusion on Riley's face.

"Don't worry about it," he said, clapping him on the back.

"I can't remember," Riley said, raising his voice to hear himself above the wind. "Do I have, like, concussion or something?"

"You didn't hit your head. It's probably just shock."

Riley shook his head, stretched out a hand for Ben's device. After a few seconds of tapping and tut-tutting, Riley threw the thing down on the snow beside him, lowering his head into his hands.

"I can do _nothing_ without my tools. Everything's gone."

Ben got to his feet, pulling Riley up next to him. The wind whipped around them, snow flurrying about in clouds. Riley stuffed his hands in his pockets, his gloves had shared the same fate as his beloved motherboard. Visibility was rapidly decreasing, Ben could barely see the glacier right in front of them.

"We have to get out of this!" Ben shouted. Riley shook his head, cupped a hand to his ear. Ben leaned in, grasping Riley by the arm, and shouted in his ear to stay close.

Still grasping his friend, he backed away from where he knew the glacier was, and started to search for shelter.

**A/N: First of four. I did some research and the only place where the Inuit people still live in small villages is in Inuktitut, somewhere in Alaska, just above the Arctic Circle. So I guess that's where the Charlotte could have ended up, because the word 'Inuktitut' literally translates into 'place where ice gathers'. Smart, hey?**

**But since the place is basically unmapped and largely used for its oil reserves, all the names in the story are made up.**

**Also, I know diddly squat about computers, I just like to pretend I'm a total geek.**

**One more thing, I have no beta, so if you see something weird or out of place, please let me know. I do scour my stuff like an obsessive before I post it, though, so you shouldn't be utterly confused. And, of course, anyone who would like to volunteer to beta for me, PLEASE DO!!**

**Disclaimer: take note 'cause I'm only doing this once. I do not own any characters, ideas or obvious contradictions in the plot of National Treasure. I just fool around with them and point out all their silly mistakes. Heheh. **


	2. Part 2

**WOW! I had no idea the NT fandom was this big! Thank you all for your reviews, it really gives you a boost. And now, we proceed...**

**Part 2**

"It's no use." Phil shook his head, snapped the notebook shut. "Little shit installed something new that I can't bypass. I can't even access his old program."

Ian turned around, took out his frustration on the side of a truck. Eyeing the new dent with anger, he wondered how he would explain any of this to the guy who rented them the trucks and the equipment. _If we ever get out of here_.

"So, are we just going to stand here and wait until we rot?" Powell demanded. The others quickly agreed and Ian had to think of a smart thing to say fast before a double mutiny occurred.

"Can't we use the truck's radio?" Phil suggested. He received a thwack on the back of the head.

"People will start asking questions if we get search-and-rescued," Shaw explained calmly, dangerously.

"We could tell them we got separated in the storm," Shippen stated.

"No," Ian said, his voice firm. "Crack that program, Phil." Phil blinked, started to protest, but Ian spoke over his voice smoothly. "Your life depends on it."

-

Ben avoided plunging into the snow head-first with the thought that the greatest legacy of America's survival lay in his hands. So was Riley Poole's life.

Riley was barely conscious, but stumbled on. Ben's grip on his arm was reassuring, but it meant he couldn't stuff his hand in his pocket. He could see his nails – they were as white as the storm they trudged on in.

The blizzard was raging. Ben hoped against hope that they'd find shelter, an abandoned shed, a rock… anything. He could feel Riley's awareness slipping behind him. They needed to keep moving. Producing heat. As soon as they stopped, they would freeze. A rogue thought in his head wondered whether Ian had also gone through this… safely tucked away inside a snow truck. A wave of anger opened up a new source of energy, and he surged forwards.

Riley felt Ben move faster. It alerted him for a second, then he slipped back into his semi-conscious state. His body had gone dead with cold.

Ben stumbled and involuntarily let go of Riley's arm. Without the support, Riley sat back hard into the snow, surprise finally dragging him out of his mind.

"Ben?" he shouted, trying to raise his voice above the storm. He couldn't hear himself. He couldn't tell if it was because of the raging wind or if his voice had vanished along with Ben. It was no use. One slip, one stumble – Ben let go and now he was gone.

"Ben!" He heard his voice crack. It was breathy, small, but it was there.

Still no response. Riley crawled around for a few seconds, finally got to his feet. Was the storm dying down? He couldn't tell. He felt dizzy, giddy. He stood still for a few seconds, tried to gather his mind and get his thoughts in order. Racking his brain for the emergency instructions that had been drilled into him, he closed his eyes, breathed on his fingers. He was so cold, his breath barely created a faint mist.

"BEN." He managed a call. He tried again and again, warming his voice up, finally managing a bellow. The wind was definitely less – he could hear himself as he stomped around despite the distraught messages his body sent him.

"BEN! BEN! BENJAMIN FRANKLIN GATES!" Feeling ridiculously chuffed with himself, he scoured the snow just ahead of him for any indication of footprints. The storm lessened, and suddenly Riley looked up and saw blue sky. For a few seconds he stood giddily in awe of the amazing view, then realized finding Ben would be much easier to find like this.

-

Ben raised his head. He'd slipped and fallen into the snow, and stayed there, praying that Riley would do the same. The storm was gone, and so was Riley.

Ben silently cursed, then sat up, surveyed the scene. A little way off, slight, powder-covered indentations in the snow showed where he had last seen Riley.

"Riley!" Could he be under the snow? Surely it hadn't the snow hadn't been that heavy?

He struggled to his feet to investigate the marks. He couldn't tell what had happened, but Riley definitely walked away unscathed.

He looked up, around. Somehow, they'd ended up in a valley surrounded by craggy peaks. He could see footsteps tracing up a hill, following a strange, circular pattern, as if Riley had stumbled along blindly. He couldn't be far off. Ben staggered up the hill, hoping to see Riley just over the top. He reached the apex, only to see that in front of him, a cloud had settled.

-

Riley cursed himself for not staying where he was. It must have been adrenaline fueling him ahead. And now he'd lost Ben. Damnit.

He paused, placed his cold hands on his knees as he caught his breath. His watch stated that he'd been walking for at least three hours since he'd lost Ben.

He was cold. He was so cold. His brain had cleared and he could think properly, but he wanted to kick himself. He could be walking in circles in this fog. If only he'd stayed put and not followed his adrenaline rush…

He straightened up, pushed ahead. If he stopped now, his core temperature would drop without him noticing. He needed to carry on. There's got to be some place in this godforsaken land where he could stop. Sooner or later, he'd stumble onto an Inuit village or some inhabited area. Then he could get help.

Riley searched his pockets for anything with sugar for the fiftieth time. Nothing. The first time, he'd found a packet of sugar in his wallet – he had no idea how it got there – but it was down his throat, stinging, before he could think twice about it. Too bad it wore off so quickly. He needed more.

-

"Anything yet?" Ian questioned. He knew when to push, and when to be patient. Riley's laptop had passed through the hands of all four his men. Powell had suggested taking a sledgehammer to it, and Shaw had convinced him that it would only get them more lost than they already were. Thankfully, it was warm inside the trucks and they had enough emergency provision to last them a month.

"I've gotten past one wall, but the others are more intricate. I can't tell how many there are. Why would he have so much security on his own computer?" Phil had tried again, taking breaks to refresh his mind, but every time Riley's firewalls backed up, he saw red. _Stupid dead kid has doomed us all_…

Ian let out a frustrated sigh, stared out across the plain. The dark fog advanced threateningly, and he knew that soon it would engulf them. Even if they could crack the walls on the laptop, the fog would most likely swallow any signal they got. They needed to work faster.

"Give me that."

-

Ben followed Riley's tracks carefully, like a hunter. Sooner or later he'd find him. Hopefully sooner rather than later. Thank God the blizzard had stopped. It was easier to track when the snow wasn't moving.

It was dark inside the fog. Any trace of sky was swallowed up and he had to squint to see in front of his face. Silently cursing their luck, Ben pushed ahead.

-

Riley gradually noticed the light changing. He hurried on, pushing himself to the limit. Finally, he escaped the clutches of the fog, sank to his knees and looked up at the sky. He was exhausted. It was worse than staying awake for nearly four days straight, trying to hack into his college roommate's computer only because he challenged him. Riley had upped his defenses, accepted his challenge, and after eighty-two hours, seventeen minutes and nine seconds, he had cracked it and proclaimed victory. His friend never cracked Riley's systems.

Riley heaved a breath, stood up. In the distance, he saw color. He whooped in happiness, started towards it, then recognized it.

And froze.

-

"Ian."

"Hold on, I think I'm onto something here." Ian rubbed his top lip in concentration, didn't look up from the screen. He was close. He could feel it.

"_Ian_."

"I said give me a sec-" Suddenly Riley's wall's came down and blocked him. Ian cursed.

"What?" His expression changed at the awestruck face looking up at him from outside the truck. Powell turned, pointed towards the fog. Ian looked up, surprise written across his face.

A small speck had appeared from the fog. It was too dark to see what it was, but Ian could guess.

"How did they survive?" he said, not speaking to anyone in particular.

"It's only one. We can't tell who it is yet. But yes, someone's alive." Shaw came up from behind Powell, looked into the distance.

"Well, hoping it's the kid, let's roll out the welcome mat."

**A/N: Alright, I've personally felt adrenaline take control of my body, so don't hassle me about Riley's strange acting. My idiot brother pushed me down a waterfall because I didn't want to jump down. Afterwards, I just wanted to get the hell as far away from the water as possible. I don't even know why. So it's plausible. **

**There is no way in hell that that entire clue came from the tiny circumference of the Meerschaum pipe (I know, it's spelt wrong, can anybody inform me of that?). For it to roll out that longass clue it must have had the circumference of a bottle of wine, maybe even more. Another strange mistake me and my friends canned over for at least an hour. Yes, it involved a bottle of wine.**


	3. Part 3

**Thanks again for the reviews, guys! All very much appreciated...  
**

**Part 3  
**

Riley had no idea what to do.

He could go back into the fog, hide, and possibly die of starvation and hypothermia, or he could wait for the oncoming truck and be possibly shot.

He turned and ran.

He stumbled deeper, the running sapping at his last energy, finally tripping over his own feet and hitting the rock-hard snow face-first. Tears came on their own as he prayed, prayed that somewhere out there God would take pity on him and make them go away. Or make this horrible day better. Or just zap him right there and get it over with.

He heard a truck roar as it neared, stopped.

"Ben?"

Riley frowned into the snow. What? What's going on?

"Ben! Are you all right? Riley?"

Riley pretended to disappear. A sudden thought crossed his mind. Never again would he wish for the ground to swallow him.

_They don't know who it is..._

"It's okay! Are you all right? Are you hurt?" Definitely Ian. He's not alone. Two pairs of flashlights scoured the snow close by.

"There's definitely someone here," another voice said. Powell. "Look at the tracks."

Any second now, they would spot him.

"Oh God. Riley?"

He heard rushed footsteps as they crunched near, closer. A hand touched his shoulder.

"Riley. Can you hear me?"

"Yes." His voice came out as less than a whisper.

"Riley. Can you hear me? Are you all right?"

Riley gave up trying to speak, went limp. Exhaustion finally caught up with him. Strong hands rolled him over. He blinked as the flashlight shone in his eyes.

"He's alive, thank God. Get him to the truck. We have to get him warm."

The strong hands lifted him into the air. Riley felt himself go heavy, then blackness descended on him.

-

Ian frowned down at the kid as they returned to the other trucks. He was badly frozen, his fingers blue with cold. His 'wonderful bag of delightfuls' (as Riley called it) was gone as well as the SatNav he had been carrying. How had they survived? What had happened to his stuff? Millions of questions flitted through his mind, but Riley's cold, hard hands were still his major concern. He bent down, tried to shake him awake.

"Riley, wake up. Come on, you're safe now. Open your eyes."

Riley groaned. He was alive. But his fingers weren't neccesarily. And those were the parts they needed right now. Ian shifted, took both of Riley's hands. They were stiff and hard, heavy with numbness. In a panic, Ian thought that the kid had frostbite and they'd be stuck in the wilderness forever.

Powell glanced to the backseat. Ian had Riley's hands covered with his own.

"Frostbite?"

Ian glanced up, into Powell's uninterested face.

"No. Frostnip. Just need to warm him up slowly and he'll be fine."

"We have to be nice to him?" Shippen kept his eyes in front of him, not glancing back. Even with nothing in miles to hit, driving the truck was difficult and needed sheer concentration to keep from skidding.

"Just until he gets us out of here." Ian glanced back down at Riley's face, assured that the kid couldn't hear them. "Then we can dump him. He'll talk, and be a general hassle if we take him out of here."

"And what if he doesn't wake up?" Powell asked, still indifferent. Ian waited a beat before answering, looking down at the pale face on his lap.

"We leave him."

-

Riley lay as still as he could. His hands ached and burned as they thawed, but he couldn't risk opening his eyes or showing any pain on his face with them talking about what they'd to with him. They were lost. And had his stuff. Why they didn't use it baffled him. _Are they seriously not that clued up? _

If he didn't show signs of recovery soon, they'd dump him back out in the cold to die. He could feel heat return to his face. It burned and he knew they'd be able to see he was heating up. So it was now or never.

How was he supposed to wake up? He couldn't exactly open his eyes and say hello. Thankfully, a searing pain that felt like fire spread to his left hand and he couldn't suppress it. He winced, tried to pull his hands away from whatever was hurting him. He tugged weakly, and whatever was holding him lessened its grip but didn't let go.

"Ow." Riley's voice was a little more than a breath. He sucked in a lungful of air and tried again. "Ow." His voice stronger, but still just a whisper.

"Riley?"

"Ow." His voice grew as he struggled to break free. "Ow. Ouch. You're hurting me. Ouch. _Ouch_. Let go." His hands felt as if they were on fire. Finally, he opened his eyes and blinked, struggling to focus. When he did, he nearly had a heart attack.

His head was in Ian's lap, and Ian was cradling his hands, carefully using his body heat to warm them up.

Riley shrank away, tried to break free, but a hand pushed him down and stayed, resting on his shoulder.

"Careful," Powell said, leaning over from the front passenger seat. "Don't waste your energy."

Riley sent him a terrified, incredulous look, froze with horror. They wanted to kill him. They wanted to shoot his brains out, lock him in an underground ice prison and then blow it up, and here they were offering him comfort. He was beyond shock.

"What's going on?" he finally squeaked. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" Shippen called from the front as Riley sat up, his hands still held captive by Ian. "We're rescuing you."

"Rescuing me?" Riley scoffed, tried to pull his hands free. "You want me dead!"

"I didn't know if you were still alive," Ian explained softly. If he hadn't heard the previous exchange of words, Riley would have believed him.

"You closed the door on us," Riley accused, his eyes shooting daggers. "You threatened to kill us, you and Shaw, then you left us to die."

"I was frustrated," Ian said, frowned morosely. "I was scared when Ben lit the flare, I was confused. It wasn't supposed to end that way."

Riley opened his mouth to shoot back, but instead leaned back into the seat and heaved. He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep. The cold was lulling him into a trance, someplace where the pain radiating from his hands was lessened, fading.

"Riley." Ian leaned forward, shook him. "Stay with me."

Riley blinked, his eyes struggling to focus.

"You've got hypothermia." Ian turned to Shippen. "Can you drive any faster?"

"Only if you want to skid all over the ice," was the reply.

"Riley, you've got to stay awake. Don't fall asleep. You hear me?"

Riley focused on Ian's face briefly, nodded.

"Recite something."

Riley frowned.

"What?"

"I said recite something. A poem. Anything. I want to hear you."

Riley's frown increased, racking his brain for something. The first idea that came into his mind was stupid. Idiotic. But he couldn't think of anything else, and finally started talking.

-

Ben saw the light change. He paused for less than a second, then hurried on. If he could get out of this, he would be able to see Riley. He'd find Riley. Then they'd have to figure out a way to get out of here.

Ben stopped, noticed more tracks. _More people. Something had happened. Oh no._

There was a far-off rumble. It wasn't thunder. It was mechanic. It hit Ben like a steamroller.

They found him.

-

"…_but then, at the end of the night, you know who would show up? The most dangerous shot of them all: tequila. And tequila never shows up alone… oh no. There's always eight or nine of them: 'come on, man, we won't start no trouble, man. We just came here to have a good time, that's all. We left the worm back in the van, he won't bother nobody.' And then, like an idiot, you let in one shot of tequila. And then he sneaks in all his friends_…"

Riley's voice faded suddenly. Ian's grin vanished. He let go of Riley's hands, leaned in, lightly slapped Riley on the cheek.

"Riley, Riley, don't give up on us yet. Come on. You were at tequila – he just snuck his friends in."

Shaw looked up. Getting the kid was a bad idea. Sure, his little 'alcohol soliloquy' was entertaining, but he before he could start getting them out of there, he needed his fingers back. And it was taking time. And his consciousness was slipping. If Ian would just stop coddling him and put him to work…

Ian reached into the provisions crate in front of him, handed Riley a bar of chocolate. Riley stared at if for a moment, trying to remember what he was supposed to do with it. His fingers were red and sore, but better. His mind wouldn't stop reeling and as soon as he was on a roll, it would shut down and he'd be slapped back into consciousness.

"Eat it, Riley. You need to get us out of here."

Riley heaved a breath, gathered his thoughts and wolfed down the chocolate. Finally, he pulled his computer closer, wincing at the protests of his hands and stared at it. They had activated every single block he had installed. He didn't think it was possible, but here it was…

He shook his head again, started to pick at the knot they'd created.

"Why didn't you just open it normally?" he asked the congregated group. "If you'd just waited for a second, you wouldn't have alerted the security programs."

"You installed something new," Phil accused him. "I couldn't bypass."

"You didn't need to. Geez." Riley frowned, continued silently. As he neared the end of the knot, he knew his usefulness would finally run out and they'd deposit him to die. None of this would last. He needed to come up with a plan.

"Okay. Here we are." Riley quickly tapped in a few codes, inserting a deactivation command like lightning to cut the link with the satellite. "Oh. Wait. We've lost signal."

As he toyed for a while with unnecessary settings and reactivated the signal, his mind was racking for a plan. If he gave them a heading, he was doomed. He needed a distraction.

Frowning, he concentrated back to the screen. Security alerts were popping up all over the place, still an after-effect of everyone's molesting of his poor computer. _Poor baby. I'll get you out of here_.

"Riley."

Riley raised his head. Ian gave him a queer look.

"You doing okay?"

"Yeah," Riley glanced back down to his screen. "Yeah. Just dealing with the aftermath of rapism."

"That's not a word."

"It should be. This is why non-IT people shouldn't be trusted with delicate equipment."

Phil stood up, his menacing frame towering over Riley.

"Are you saying I'm stupid?"

"No, I said 'this is why-'"

"Riley," Ian interrupted. "Don't mess around. It's obvious the chocolate helped. Now can you get us out of here?"

"I'm trying. Aargh. Does anyone have an extra pair of gloves? My fingers are-"

"Riley." Ian's voice was cold. Riley's blood froze at the tone. _Oh shit. It's starting_.

"Okay, okay. Give me a second."

Riley turned back to his computer where it was propped up on an upturned crate. He weighed his options. Give them what they want and hope for mercy, or stall for time and possibly get shot in the head now that he'd cleaned up their mess.

**A/N: Again, no beta-reader, might be a little confusing, volunteers apply via profile please. It's such a hassle to go through that ass-long list of beta-ers to find someone suitable. Please guys. **

**I don't own the little stand-up comedy lines – I don't even know who owns it. It was one of those friend of a friend's mp3s that just spread. It's hilarious, though. If anyone recognizes it, please let me know who it belongs to, I'd really like to credit him.**

**Also, did anyone notice that Riley's goatee/stubble kept appearing and disappearing throughout the movie? I just thought it was funny. So did my friends. We make a habit of pointing out mistakes like these. It's fun. **


	4. Part 4

**Aw! (tears in my eyes) You like me. You really like me. Again, thanks guys for all the great reviews. And thanks also to LoremIpsum and Booklover Fanatic for betaing (yeah, I need two, I'm that bad) you guys are lifesavers! **

Ben had a plan. It was rough and there were many things that could go wrong.

For one, they could see him sneaking across the tundra for everyone to notice. But it seemed that they had parked the two snow trucks to create a small, sheltered space, so it was unlikely that they would see him. Also, there were five of them plus Riley (who was most likely restrained and would be of no help) and only one of him. He had no idea how he was going to rescue Riley and take on five men who were obviously stronger than him.

But he had to do something. He started his sneaking, molding his plan as he moved. Every now and then he saw movement and would fall flat, in hopes that they wouldn't spot him. Finally, he made it. He stayed behind the wheel of a truck and peered under it. He heard voices, saw two upturned crates. Someone was sitting on one, facing the other crate. Ben saw two pairs of legs and figured the other three were sitting inside the trucks where he wouldn't see them.

"…give me a second." _Riley! Oh, thank the good Lord, he's alive and fine_. So it was Riley sitting on the crate, obviously working on his laptop. What was he doing? Were they forcing him?

There was a rustle of wrappers as someone opened something. The sound was pure torture. Ben was starving, his body begging for nourishment. He wondered what they'd to if he casually walked around the back of the truck. If he could pull it off…

It was the best thing he could come up with. So he did it.

-

There was a crunch of boots and Riley looked up from his computer as Shaw trained his gun on the back of the truck.

Ben appeared around the back, unsmiling, hands stuffed into his pockets. For a few seconds there was silence.

Then Riley fell off the crate and Ian stepped forward.

"Ben."

"Ian. Thanks so much for waiting."

"I thought you were dead."

"I very nearly was."

There was a staring match between them for a minute or two. Riley sat up, snow in his hair.

"Ben!" Riley hastily tried to stand up.

"Riley?"

"I thought I lost you."

"You did. If you'd stayed where you were-" Ben started, his tone admonishing and relieved.

"Yeah, I know, I want to kick myself for not doing that. Sorry." 

Ben looked around, taking in the three guns trained on him.

"You really think you'd be able to steal the Declaration?"

The four henchmen glanced at Ian, not answering. They knew who their leader was.

"It's not a question of morality. It's impossible. You can't steal it."

"You don't know unless you try, Ben." Ian's voice was ice. All the fake regret was gone. He gestured Phil, the only one without a gun, towards Riley.

"Hey!" Riley was yanked to his feet and forced back down onto the crate.

"Riley, give us the bearings, and we won't kill Ben."

Riley was shaking. Whether it was adrenaline, the cold, fear… he had no idea. But if he didn't do as Ian said, Ben was going to die.

"You're lost?" Ben asked casually. Ian scowled at him, grabbed the gun from Shaw and pointed it at Ben.

"I want to do this myself."

Every tap of a key shot pangs of painful sensation back up Riley's fingers. They worked faster, faster, until he was making so many mistakes his commands were useless. He had to start over.

"Riley…" Ian's voice was a warning. Riley tore his gaze from the screen, saw Ian's trigger finger flexing.

"I'm getting there, getting there. You're making me nervous, I'm making mistakes."

Finally he had an overview.

"Okay. Cape Kunaho is thirty miles away. We're closer to it than the Charlotte, but you travelled too far east. You see?"

Ian lowered the weapon, moved to see the screen. He could make out nothing from the readings and graphs. He couldn't even tell whether Riley was lying or not. He caught Riley's earnest, tense gaze, considered it for a while. It wasn't enough.

In two quick strides, Ian was standing next to Ben, the muzzle of the gun pressed to Ben's temple.

"Are you telling the truth?" he shouted.

"Yes!" Riley said, his voice registering alarm and surprise that Ian would doubt him.

"Riley, don't lie to me."

"I'm NOT, please, don't shoot Ben!"

Ian lowered the gun, slowly, held Riley's gaze. The kid had never joined them in a game of poker, always too busy with his computer, or broke. Ian couldn't tell whether he was bluffing.

Ben decided enough was enough. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins, and at Ian's hesitation, he acted.

With a deft twist of his arm, Ben grabbed Ian's gun hand. For a few seconds, they struggled. Gunshots rang through the air. Riley felt someone knock him off the crate as the others hit the ground to avoid the errant bullets.

Finally, Ben had the upper hand. He knocked the gun out of Ian's hand and it flew through the air, landing near the wheel of a truck, safely out of reach. Ben shoved Ian to the ground, where he lay still. Ben breathed hard for a moment or two, just staring down at Ian. Then he turned to the others.

"Is this really worth it? Would you take an innocent life for treasure?"

Riley raised his head, gaped when he saw that it was Powell who knocked him down. Powell gave him a brief nod and stood up without offering him a hand. Riley started to lift himself up, then movement caught his eye.

"Ben-"

Ian shot Ben. He lowered the gun and shot Ben in the foot. Ben cried out in pain, sinking to the snow. Already the snow around his foot was pink.

Riley was up, going at Ian. Shaw grabbed him before he reached Ian and flung Riley to the snow.

"I wasn't lying!" he sobbed. "I wasn't lying! You need to go north-north-west and you'll be there by sundown! How could you shoot your _own friend_?"

Ian laughed bitterly as Phil snapped the laptop shut and Shippen climbed into a driver's seat. Everyone was leaving, getting into the trucks. Ben winced, grasped at his foot. Ian kicked snow at Riley as he struggled to sit up in the snow.

"It's easy, Riley. You pull the trigger." Ian smirked, easily heaved himself into a truck. Riley glared up him.

There was a roar as the trucks started and a flurry of snow as they pulled away.

-

"Ben! Oh shit, Ben, this is all my fault." Riley sank into the snow where Ben sat, clasping his foot. "Oh, no, no, no, no-"

"Riley! Riley. Calm down. It's just a graze."

"Are you sure? Can I see?"

Ben lifted his foot. He'd already pulled the shoe off. The bullet had hit the shoe's edge, pushing it in and grazing Ben's small toe. For a small cut, the thing was bleeding like a river. Riley said as much, and Ben laughed.

"Is Ian always such a bad shot?" Riley grimaced.

"Ian's a great shot."

"He's a sadistic bastard."

Ben laughed again.

"Let's see your hands," he said, stretching out a hand. Riley surrendered them reluctantly. They were hurting like mad, pissed-off limbs.

"Can you move them?"

"It burns."

"Yeah. We can't let them refreeze, you'll get really bad frostbite. Take my gloves."

"Am I supposed to say 'aw thank you, that's sweet' now? 'Cause it's not gonna happen. You don't get to bring new meaning to 'I feel your pain'. I'm the hero here."

"I got deep pockets."

"So do I."

"I don't have frostnip."

"Neither do I."

Ben cocked an eyebrow. Riley stuck out his bottom lip. And took Ben's gloves.

-

"I'm cold."

Ben squeezed his eyes shut. It was obvious that somebody stolen a few bars of chocolate from a certain villain. Riley's core temperature had sprung back up and he had enough energy for the both of them. Ben was glad the hypothermia hadn't left Riley with permanent damage, but still, to go through this kind of verbal torture was…

"My hands hurt."

Silence never lasted long.

"Ben, look! Arctic bunnies!"

Ben ignored him as much as he could. If he wanted to waste his energy, let him. Ben was tired of telling him off.

Fifteen minutes after the arctic bunnies:

"Look what I found!"

Ben sighed, turned around. "More chocolate?"

"No," Riley sighed, purposefully missing the sarcasm. "I ate them all. Sorry. But you had three anyway, so you shouldn't be complaining."

"Riley. What did you find?"

Riley grinned, and his hands emerged from behind his back.

They'd been following the tracks the snow trucks left. Riley had given them the right direction, and they shouldn't have any trouble handling Riley's laptop now that he'd shut down the firewalls.

But it seems like they did. Riley hugged the laptop to his chest, grinning like a little boy at Christmas.

"Where did you find that?"

"Over there." Riley gestured to a point at least twenty feet away from the tracks.

"You shouldn't be running around. For Pete's sake, Riley, just stay behind me!"

Riley gave him a hurt look, then sat down onto the snow and opened his laptop.

"Riley! Get up, we can't stop now. We won't get there before nightfall anyway, do you want to walk in the dark?"

Riley shot him another look.

"If the computer works, we won't have to."

Ben let out a frustrated sigh, threw his arms in the air and sat down next to Riley with a thunk. Riley's brow was puzzled as he tried to boot up.

"YES! SHE LIVES!"

Ben jumped at Riley's sudden enthusiasm, leaned in to see what he was on about. Riley's familiar unintelligible screen was on, albeit cracked.

"Now… let's see if we have… connection with… the satellites… bin-go."

Less than a minute later, Riley had found that the area was riddled with Inuit villages. Ben grinned, ruffled Riley's hair and stood up. Riley gave him a disgusted glare and accepted his hand.

"If you'd listened to me when I told you we were going the wrong way, none of this would have happened."

"If you hadn't run across a hidden crevasse and wandered off in a blizzard, we'd probably be sitting in a warm Inuit village right now."

"Well, if you…" Riley thought for a moment. "No, that about covers it. How come you always get the last say?"

"I'm smart."

"So am I."

"No, you're smartass."

"There's a difference?"

"Of course. The one needs to balance the other."

"…that doesn't really make sense, you know."

"…maybe. It seemed like the right thing to say."

"You're weird, Ben."

"So are you."

Silence.

"Why do you _do_ that?"

"Do what?"

"_That_. You know what I mean. You always have to call the shots. You can't stand it if someone thinks of something before you do."

"That chocolate's gone to your head."

"You had some too!"

"You had at least seven bars before I could stop you. I don't know how many you've had after that."

"Okay, okay. I only had four more. You ate the rest."

Ben stopped, stared at his shorter friend. Riley looked up at him.

"What?"

"You had eleven chocolate bars?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Riley, if you pass out from a sudden drop in blood sugar, I'm not going to drag you to Nukat."

"Is that the name of the village? How do you _know_ that?"

"You said it was south of Cape Kunaho. Nukat is the only village big enough to show up on the satellites."

Riley stared down at the snow, muttered something Ben didn't hear. They stomped ahead in silence for a while.

"Look, it's the village!"

"Where, where?" Riley's head flew up, searched the horizon. "Is that it?" he asked, disappointed.

Ben smiled.

"Yes. That's it."

-

"So, what are we going to do?"

"Riley, shut up and go to sleep."

"What are we going to do about Ian?"

"I don't know."

Riley sat up, regretting the movement instantly. His hands had been wrapped in sterile dressings and he'd been told by the friendly Nukat villagers who offered them a room that they'd hurt for a while. They were right.

_This place isn't so bad_, Riley had thought during their reception. There was even a store here. About thirty tiny little houses surrounded the only store and the radio tower.

"You don't know?"

"…no."

"Gee. That's… new."

"Riley. _Please_ get some rest."

Riley rolled over, brushing against Ben. He paused, then attached himself to Ben's back with some force.

"Riley. This is awkward enough already. Get off me."

"You're warm."

"I don't care. So are you. Use your own heat."

"No. You're… warm."

Ben lay in the dark, listened to Riley's breathing. It was slowing, the depth increasing. He was finally going to sleep. Ben turned over, carefully pried Riley off his back. As soon as he'd nudged Riley to the other side and turned back, Riley inched back until he was curled up against Ben, leeching off his heat. This happened a number of times and in a variety of ways. Every time Ben thought he'd finally gotten rid of the human parasite, Riley would moan in his sleep and shrink back to Ben's heat.

Just another of Riley's abnormal displays of affection. Or maybe he was just really cold.

At long last, Ben sighed and gave up. He didn't want to wake Riley and face the possible non-stop verbal consequences, but he would never get any sleep this way. He turned onto his back, shoved at the leech and waited for Riley to react. Riley sighed, huddled closer. And closer. Just when Ben thought Riley couldn't possibly invade his personal space by another inch, Riley flung a hand onto Ben's chest and rolled onto Ben's arm. The sudden impact made Ben shift and struggle to free his arm, and before he knew it, Riley had settled his head onto Ben's shoulder and wormed into the crook of Ben's arm, clutching at Ben's shirt like a lifeline. He snored faintly.

If Ben was in any other situation, he would have laughed himself sick at the thought. But here, with Riley snoring into his armpit, it was the single most embarrassing thing he could think of.

But Riley was warm. Ben shifted, tried to maneuver Riley's head into a more comfortable position. Riley sniffed, let his head roll forward onto Ben's chest. His breath was even, deep, and suddenly a waft of chocolate floated up to Ben. Ben almost chuckled to the night, but realized he might wake Riley with the movement. He lay there for a few moments, thinking that the experience wasn't altogether vile. It was strangely… comforting. Well, it must have been for Riley to affix himself to Ben like this.

Ben stared into the dark. He'd lied to Riley, hoping it would shut him up.

He knew exactly what to do.

END

**A/N: I have difficulty with Ben and Riley's relationship, has anyone noticed? I mean, neither of the movies imply any kind of real brotherly tendencies, yet there are so many fics that portray just that. So I tried to bring Riley's obviously weird shows of emotion (eg the hug of the bluish-green man, I mean seriously; tears at the stairs) into the equation as an explanation. Let me know if it worked.**

**I don't really know if there are bunnies in the arctic. If there are, they're most likely not called snow bunnies. Arctic rabbits, probably. I have no idea…**

**Okay, there you are. My first completed NT fic. There'll be lots more. My overactive imagination hasn't let me down yet. **


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